


Midnights

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Sidon cleans up after the party.





	Midnights

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Another ficlet inspired by Taylor Swift’s “New Year’s Day” song. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda, Taylor Swift’s “New Year’s Day” song, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even though the party’s come and gone, the evidence is everywhere: the entire domain is one giant swath of well-worn love, and everyone that Sidon sees is smiling wistfully. Some still hum the music of the bards, and others chat with one another over fond memories. Many speak of Mei and Fronk, for the happy couple’s anniversary was the stuff of legends, and even Sidon finds himself privately longing for a love like theirs. The celebration did them justice.

But the joy spread beyond just their species, and many friends Mei met in her travels came to join them—the inn’s Hylian-style beds are full of visitors, and the delights of other cultures still float across the water. Gourmet Goron food still wafts through the air, woven Rito gifts lying about the swimming pools. The Hylians brought the most changes, delivered in the arms of beaming merchants, and their merchandise still dots the tiles. Most of Sidon’s guards, usually so studious about the borders, are now holding brooms instead of lances, sweeping up the refuse. Some of it is fun to collect—such as the curiously magical ‘polaroids’ that the Hylians have built from Link’s Sheikah slate. But others are a nightmare—most notably the _glitter_ , which coats nearly every surface and resists the fastidious scratch of Sidon’s nails. He tries to pick it up, and it merely wafts away, settling over new land and clinging for dear life. On hands and knees, Sidon vainly tries to wash it away. He always works just as hard as his guards do.

Unfortunately, some things require expert hands, and after a young child runs through his latest glitter pile, scattering it anew, he finally accepts that he will have to assign another to its removal. Perhaps the Hylian merchant has an antidote for her gift. Sidon sets about the polaroids instead—these he can collect with just his fingers, and he gathers them up in his arms, one by one, with a mind to give them to the proper people who evidently lost them in the commotion of last night. They really are marvelous little things—like tiny paintings of strangely flat colour but perfect likeness. Each one captures a new memory, which in turn creates a mosaic masterpiece to Fronk and Mei’s timeless love. Every Zora should be so lucky.

He pauses on the seventh one he retrieves, because as he plucks it out from under the railing, the peach-yellow colouring catches his eye. His own face takes up half of it, and the other shows his greatest friend—Link, the guest of honour, who reunited the happy couple and saved their very home, tucked tightly under Sidon’s arm with his cheek resting against Sidon’s shoulder. His blue eyes are half lidded, his pink lips in a smile. Even in the poor lighting of the night and his water-logged blue tunic, he looks striking. But then, he always does. The memory flares to life in Sidon’s mind—the two of them over by the sleeping pools, away from all the crowds, just enjoying one another’s presence, until the merchant came and shouted, of all things, _“Cheese.”_

Confused but still polite, Sidon just smiled. Evidently, so did Link. And the merchant went on to other groups of happy guests, leaving the little wisp of paper to fall to the floor, forgotten. 

Now Sidon drinks it in and finds himself grinning wider over it: Link’s smiles are often all too rare, burdened by the weight of all their world, and here one is caught forever in Sidon’s hands. Whichever Hylian first learned how to immortalize such moments, Sidon is forever grateful to them. 

He hears the shuffle of soft feet behind him and breaks from his reverie to glance over his shoulder. It’s only Rivan, sweeping up the discarded pebbles of a Goron meal. But beyond that, Sidon spies Link beside the stairs, holding a ragged cloth and wiping at the banister. 

Drawn to Link as always, Sidon heads straight there. He temporarily abandons his own quest, but he adds the polaroid he holds to the collection in his arms. When he reaches Link, he sees Link on the very task that he first tried—mopping up the glitter. Link seems to be having slightly better luck, although it’s backfired tremendously. His entire upper body, otherwise as bare as any Zora’s, is shimmering in the early sun. Each tiny speck is radiant on his creamy skin, even his perfect face dotted here and there with little light-catchers, and when he turns to Sidon, he shines like a midnight sky. For a moment, Sidon’s simply speechless. He understands now why Hylians wreck such havoc with their parties: the aftermath is _worth it_ , for it makes their gemstones glow all the brighter. Zora’s Domain is full of natural light, awash with iridescent stones and multi-hued coral and plants, but no reef has even been as gorgeous as Link. The polaroid didn’t do Link justice: his beauty simply can’t be captured.

Link tilts his head, clearly waiting for Sidon to speak, and finally, Sidon tells him, “Oh, goodness, Link, you don’t have to do that—you are our guest of honour! We will clean up, of course—you have much better things to do...”

Link shrugs sheepishly and resumes his scrubbing of the banister, but Sidon lays a gentle hand over his. Smiling likely too conspicuously, Sidon murmurs, “Please, Link. Let us.”

Link’s eyes flicker over Sidon’s. Many in the domain have called Sidon handsome, both to his face and behind his back, and he’s heard it all and spluttered his thanks, but he’s never known if that aesthetic meant a thing at all to Link. For a moment, with the way Link looks at him now, Sidon thinks they might not be so very different after all. In the polaroid, they look perfect, fit together like two halves of one shell.

Then Link leans forward, and Sidon braces for it, breath hitching, heart beating fast—but Link’s hand only lifts to rub a speck of glitter off Sidon’s cheek. Link flicks it off into his pile. 

He smiles again at Sidon as he leaves. He doesn’t ask for any of the pictures in Sidon’s arms, but Sidon knows his Sheikah slate is loaded up with memories, ones that have Sidon in them. 

Link waves before he disappears into the distance, and for once, Sidon doesn’t wave back, because he’s using both hands to cradle his picture close, just above his heart.


End file.
